


Daredevil- Chicken Run- The Mr Tweedy Chronicles

by mrAziz



Category: Chicken Run (2000), Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Chickens have escaped from Tweedy’s farm, F/M, Gen, Other, The chickens are revolting, They’re organised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:30:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrAziz/pseuds/mrAziz
Summary: Taking place after the events of Chicken Run (2000), Mr Tweedy has been taken for questioning about the death of his wife.





	Daredevil- Chicken Run- The Mr Tweedy Chronicles

“Mr Tweedy?...Are you listening to me?!

Despite the intense lighting, the cramped room and the demanding presence of the Detective Inspector, Mr Tweedy had zoned out of the interrogation. For the first time in his life he felt unsure what to do. He was free. Free from egg farming. Free from chickens. Free from Mrs Tweedy...She was gone forever.

“ARE YOU LISTENING?” Detective Inspector Lawrence growled in his face.

“I..OH..UM” Stuttered the bewildered Tweedy. “Yes Constable! I’m cooperating!”

“Detective Inspector...” DI Lawrence snarled. “Do I need to repeat the question?”

“Oh if you would be so kind, sir...kind sir...hehehe” Mr Tweedy chuckled nervously. He was beginning to wish he has stayed zoned out now and sweat began to drip from his forehead and soak his farmer’s hat.

“DID YOU KILL YOUR WIFE?”

No....No...No...It wasn’t me. It was them. They’re organised... Tweedy thoughts began to race and he started tremble.

“N-N-N No Sir.” Mr Tweedy spluttered unconvincingly. Lie he thought. That’s what Mrs Tweedy would do. That’s the clever clogs thing to do. 

DI Lawrence frowned and grabbed his goatee beard as if he was going to rip it off. He was a balding middle aged bloke who would’ve once been ginger but he had a demeanour and voice that wheezed authority.

“You deny having anything to do with the death of your wife, Mr Tweedy?”

“Y-y-y yes Sir” 

“Even though you found at the crime scene after alerting the Yorkshire police yourself”

“Y-y-y yes Sir”

“Even though you were found next to the body.”

“Y-y-y yes Sir”

“And that the manner of Mrs Tweedy’s death suggests signs of domestic abuse” The farmhouse had been blown up and Mrs Tweedy had door pushed on her. A little beyond abuse but this would rattle Tweedy.”

What? Abuse? Me? Mr Tweedy’s mind raced. SHE ABUSED ME. Calling me a fucking lummox. An idiot. A stupid eejit egg farmer. It was her fault she got the can! She didn’t listen to me. I TOLD HER THEY WERE ORGANISED.

Mr Tweedy said nothing but his carcass of a body was shaking. He wasn’t used to dealing with pressure. He was good at farming eggs. Good at keeping chi-. NO NOT THEM. Not them...

Di Lawrence sighed and decided to change his strategy to crack this bumbling cretin of a Farmer. 

“Look, Mr Tweedy.” Lawrence said, relaxing his shoulders. “It’s late and you’ve had a rough day. Everybody wants this other with, especially you. Just tell me what you know about happened and we can sort this out.” 

This was a rare case for the Yorkshire police department. A farm explosion, a women crushed by a door and the remains of a chicken pie machine and that were no chickens found at the scene. But Lawrence was tired now and looking at Mr Tweedy’s goofy and hapless eyes for an hour straight in a white interrogation room was starting to break his soul. 

Mr Tweedy shuffled nervously but then muttered.

“I didn’t kill Mrs Tweedy...”

“She was your wife. Lawrence asked confused. “Why don’t your call her Melisha?”

“She...” Mr Tweedy eyes dropped to the floor. “She didn’t like it....She wanted control...And power...And Money...

What the fuck is this guy? Thought DI Lawrence.

“Who did you think killed her then? 

“I tried to warn her....”

“Warn her what.” Lawrence was interested now and wiped his bored tears out of his eyes.

“She wouldn’t listen to me. She never did.”

“What did you try to warn her, Tweedy?”

“I TOLD HER THEY WERE ORGANISED!” Mr Tweedy suddenly exploded taking Lawrence off guard and speechless. “AGAIN AND AGAIN BUT SHE WOULDN’T LISTEN TO ME. ‘OH SHUT UP MR TWEEDY’ SHE SAID ‘GET ALL OF THEM’ SHE SAID”

Lawrence sat back and watched the farmer’s repressed anger ooze out.

“THEY WERE ORGANISED. ORGANISED THIEVING BUGGERS THE LOT OF THEM. ESPECIALLY THAT GINGER ONE. ORGANISED! And they all escaped! Destroyed the pie machine and escaped. We should’ve stayed as egg farmers!”

“Who was organised” Lawrence questioned. “WHO ESCAPED”

Mr Tweedy’s anger subsided into fear. His teeth started chatter. He shook in his muddy shoes. But then he leaned into speak.

“The chickens. They’re organised. They’re revol-“

Suddenly the door swung open, breaking the tension and almost sending Mr Tweedy out of his chair in surprise. A man in a suit walked in and towered over the two men at the table. He had a white stick and his eyes were hidden by the opaque glasses. 

“Mr Tweedy. Don’t say another word.” The man’s voice was American. A New York accent. 

“Christ on a bike, who an earth are you?” DI Lawrence demanded. How dare a Yankee interrupt an interrogation. He thought. MY INTERROGATION.

“My name is Matthew Murdock and I will be representing Mr Tweedy as his Lawyer.” The yank stated. “You’ve questioned my client long enough. You may leave and I will discuss this case with Mr Tweedy in private.”


End file.
